A Change of Heart
by ScribbleScribbleDoo
Summary: AU. A Rogue helps a disturbed Prince be enlightened on the concept of reality [after being confined by the palace walls for such a long time].


**A/N: I should probably get some sleep by now since I've already finished this.**

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The moon is bright, and the stars twinkle. Ahead looms the mountains and the forests, still and mysterious in the dark. The night was cold and peaceful, as it has always been...

...yet he could not sleep.

He tossed and he turned—counted sheep even—yet to no avail could he feel his eyes shut. It was as if there was a spell upon him that night_. It shouldn't matter_, he thought, as he eyed the darkness of the ceiling. The images of the events flashed before his eyes once more. Like a nightmare. _It wouldn't mean anything, really. Not to us._ Yet even as he thought of this he is unsure—and suddenly he is afraid.

_This won't do_, he thought, and slowly he sat on the edge of his bed. He looked at the shadows of the furnitures in his room. He stared at them for a long time, as if in deep thought until he snapped. "This won't do at all," he said, getting up and taking the lamp by the table. He took one last look at the shadows, and closed the door.

_A drink might help_, he thought once more, lighting his way to the big kitchen. He could've asked a maid to assist him, yet as if for the first time he did not want to disturb their sleep. Finally, with careful steps he entered the kitchen—only to find out someone was already there.

"No, they would not want this. It would spoil too easy," a voice whispered. There was a then a clattering of pans and pots and rummaging of a basket. His heart nearly jumped. A thief! In the palace! How on earth did he get here? It was too late however before he could grab himself a weapon. The thief has become aware of the light emmited by his lantern, and he stopped. He stood up from his kneel and faced him with a dagger at hand.

He—no, he was a _she_—looked at him dangerously for a moment, but then her expression relaxed. She merely smirked at his shock, and this he also found irritating.

"How did you get here, thief? What trickery are you trying to pull?" he said harshly. "Why do you steal from royalty at the dead night!"

"Your highness," she bowed, her voice dripping with mockery. "It is a fine evening, do you not think? And it's rogue for you, not a thief!" she winked.

"Answer the question," he growled, secretly grabbing a butter knife from one of the open drawers.

"Oh, so hasty!" she exclaimed, as she casually placed a ripe pumpkin in what seems to be her sack. "Though won't you agree you should be a little nice to get information about me, hmmm?"

"I do not trust you to do the same, as you yourself have no respect," he countered. The lamp's light weakened and her image became harder to see.

"Are you not the _prince_ they finally _released_ from the palace walls?" she asked conversationally, this time keeping a dozen of carrots. He decided that he would have to entertain her first before she to himself. _Alright then._

"Yes, you are correct," he answered, holding his anger. He gritted his teeth. "My company and I took a tour of the borders this morning."

"I know that." The lamp's light was dying when suddenly she came, force of her coming completely blowing away the flame. He expetected her to strike, yet to his surprise she did not; instead she was surveying the bottles of milk behind him, counting them.

"How was your tour, then?" she inquired once more, selecting two bottles. He felt her move again, no doubt placing them in her sack. He was tempted to strike her, right _now_, yet something about her was preventing him from doing so.

"It was most _refreshing_." He simply answered. He did not believe his words, however. She stopped. With only the moonlight by the window illuminating the room she looked like a ghost. The rouge casted her eyes down.

"Have you seen the children?" her voice shook. "Have you seen their mothers? Their fathers? How about the slaves, your majesty? The merchants? Or perhaps the Punished by the Hill?"

He was quiet.

"Answer me, your majesty!" she exclaimed, and soon he felt her standing before him. Her eyes, he noted, were pink brimming with tears; covered by a mask. Her hair up close looked like silver in the moonlight, covered by the dark blue hood that she wore.

"No, it was not refreshing. It was the worst that I saw. It was horrible." He shakingly said, the truth—the truth he revelead to her. She listened to every word he said. The children _begging_ for alms, their mothers _crying_ and their fathers _sweating_ and _bleeding_ from work; the slaves loosing their _innocence_ by the streets and the _trickery_ of each merchant. And finally the Punished, dying for the crimes they were _unjustly _and _unrightfully_ accused. His father took _pleasure_ of this all, showing his son the _legacy_ he will inherit and soon pass on.

"Do you now see why I steal?" she said with passion. "It was for those innocent people your family for generations took advantage of. It was always a tyrant after a tyrant. Yet—I saw you. From the shadows I saw_** you**_. You are not like them. You were disgusted, you had pity! You have your morals locked within you. And you were angry of all these things! Yet you were bound by the rules of your family._ But_ I thought there was hope, so I came here tonight."

There was a still silence. Finally he broke it. "Do you think I could change all of these things? Will the people trust in me despite these things?"

She looked at him warmly, reaching to pat his shoulder. "What does your heart tell you?"

"My heart tells me yes. I can create a bright future for them." He said. To his surprise, she hugged him. It was a short embrace, until she let go.

"Do not be so uptight. Allow yourself to feel, not just think, and there you will learn." She said, and her prescence left him. He heard her lifting her sack.

"I will," he replied. She smiled. Then she went for the window, attatching herself to some rope.

"Will I see you again?" he said suddenly. She turned to face him, and in that moment he tried to memorize her features—her short blonde hair, pink eyes, petite figure and taste for dark blue clothing—illuminated by the moonlight.

The rogue flashed him another smile and a wink. "Time will tell." And then she dropped.

He went for the window looking for a sign of her in the darkness. It was as if she vanished into thin air. And there he thought he saw her silhoette, and then there was nothing at all.

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After lighting a new lamp and fixing the mess the rogue made (as well as drinking a warm cup of milk), he went back to his quarters and shut the light.

The moon is bright, and the stars twinkle. Ahead looms the mountains and the forests, still and mysterious in the dark. The night was cold and peaceful, as it has always been...

...but within him is a change of heart.

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**A/N: ****Thanks for reading!~**


End file.
